


specifically designed to make bad decisions

by outranks



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: M/M, Religious Themes, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/pseuds/outranks
Summary: John adds a new sermon to his repertoire. It’s all about lust and giving yourself over to the Project and then names Rook specifically no less than seven times. Rook pretends not to notice and hopes everyone else will do the same.





	specifically designed to make bad decisions

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be about how joseph tied john's fate to the deputy's atonement but it's not really that at all.

Rook is so very very tired. Monumentally, stupidly, pathetically tired and with every step he’s finding it harder to remember why it’s necessary to waste all that extra energy on breathing. He’s been shot at, stabbed, chased by a wolverine, and set on fire all in the last twenty-four hours and it’s taking everything he has not to just curl up in a soft looking patch of grass and sleep there, elements and peggies and wolverines be damned. 

So it’s perfectly reasonable that he isn’t exactly in the right frame of mind when John calls him over the radio, ranting about sin, specifically Rook’s sin, more specifically wrath, and Rook just can’t deal with it. Especially not when John starts talking about sending for him and making him confess. It’s just-- it’s too much.

“John, _John_ , listen,” Rook says, nearly falling through the doorway of what is hopefully an abandoned home. The corpses out front certainly suggest so. “You’re a smart guy, you went to school. A lot of school. That’s impressive, you know?” His boots won’t come off, the laces are _fighting him_. “And I’m sure you know a lot about sin and you can tell me all about it, but how about we talk _tomorrow_.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. You can tell me all about what kind of sinner I am, I’ll even… I’ll even listen to whatever you have to say. I’ll take notes. Just, not today.” Rook pulls so hard on his boot that he nearly hits himself in the face with it and wouldn’t that have been absolutely perfect. 

There’s loud crackling static before John answers sounding exactly as suspicious as someone in their right mind should be in this situation. “You would… listen.”

“Yes. Yes,” Rook says, giving in to the power of Yes and hoping that John appreciates the effort he’s making here. “It’s late and I need to sleep and I’m sure you need to sleep too, right? You do sleep?”

“Of course I sleep,” John says like he’s speaking to a crazy person which is both a fair point and a little rude, considering everything John’s got going on. “I have your word?”

“My word, my vow, whatever you want, you got it. I’ll even confess a sin or two if you wait at least until noon, does that work?”

“That’s-- yes, that will work.” The line goes dead and Rook’s so grateful he doesn’t even bother to consider what an absolutely terrible idea this could turn out to be. He’s asleep before his head even hits the pillow. 

*

Of course, the next day he gets taken to John’s bunker and spends the entire afternoon and much of the night listening to John’s ideas about sin and confession, with several tangents into what is mostly just commentary on Rook as a person which is weird but not entirely unexpected. It’s not all that bad, John is enthusiastic at least, and no one gets any sins carved into or off of their flesh, so that part is actually pretty great. 

The real problem begins when John excuses himself for a moment to go somewhere in the direction of some very loud and persistent screaming and Rook takes the opportunity to look for an escape. 

He hasn’t been tied up, or even dosed with the Bliss, and there aren’t any Peggies watching him in case he tries to do anything stupid. Like escape without any of his weapons. Which is really on them for thinking that either he wouldn’t or couldn’t because he can and he will. Especially with the varied and terrible assortment of knives that John just has lying around.

So Rook decides it’s best to leave before things take a turn for the painful. 

He’s down two hallways and trying to peer through the porthole in one of the large metal doors inside the bunker when John rounds the corner next to him and just stops. Looking at Rook like his feelings have been hurt by him wanting to leave this pit of insanity. 

Rook has never flayed a single person and yet somehow he’s the jerk in this situation. “I was looking for the bathroom?” 

It’s such an obvious lie but John either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because his entire demeanor brightens and he smiles like Rook has done something unexpected and kind. Like he had been braced for disappointment, but Rook had given him a gift instead. 

Rook has no idea what to do with that. They’re not friends and he’s willing to bet money John is still planning to carve him up, but he follows John back down the two hallways and into the room with the knives anyway. 

And that’s how Rook ends up spending the rest of the night listening to John’s many sermons, with more commentary on Rook’s personal sins and that of his friends’ and how the power of Yes could be the first step to saving his very soul. Rook doesn’t end up with his soul cleansed, but he does end up having sex with John. So that’s… that’s probably a win. 

“Fuck,” Rook says, arching his neck back to give John more room to sink his teeth in like some kind of fanatical religious vampire. He’s sure John has drawn blood and that only makes him hold tighter, pull John in harder, and push up into that soft, warm space inside him. 

“Give up your sin,” John breathes into his skin. His nails digging in like claws into Rook’s chest, and that shouldn’t be good, none of this is what Rook has ever wanted, but John is vicious and _pretty_ , even so consumed with madness. He pulls John down and kisses him, trying to give just as much as he takes and takes, and lets that madness consume him too. 

When Rook finally leaves the bunker his sins have been carved into his skin just as well as any knife would have. 

*

John adds a new sermon to his repertoire. It’s all about lust and giving yourself over to the Project and then names Rook specifically no less than seven times. Rook pretends not to notice and hopes everyone else will do the same.

They don’t. 

“I don’t want to tell you how to live your life or noth’n, but you do know you’re not supposed to stick your dick in crazy, right?” Sharky asks, as the sermon plays over the loudspeakers at the Sunrise Farm. 

“Man makes a good point,” Grace says from where she’s squashed in next to them, hidden behind a conveniently placed boulder. “Can’t believe I just said that.” She looks disgusted at both herself and Rook for causing this situation.

“I didn’t have sex with John Seed.” 

The recording plays the part that calls out Rook by his full, legal name, and then goes on to mention lust, fornication, and atonement.

Sharky looks from Rook to the Peggies who genuinely appear uncomfortable with what they’re having to listen to, and back to Rook. “Does he know that?”

Rook jumps away from their hiding spot and charges head first into the nearest Peggie because, honestly, close combat with a fully armored religious lunatic is less painful than the conversation about his choice in sexual partners. 

*

“Did you really need to make an entire speech telling everyone that we fucked,” Rook asks, stretched out and lazy on the roof of an old camper, partially hidden by some trees from the midday sun. “Isn’t that against one of the rules? The sex, I mean, not the part where you announced it to anyone with a working pair of ears.” He doesn’t actually know what is and isn’t against cult rules, but he doesn’t think that fucking the cult’s enemy number one in your personal doomsday bunker is allowed.

“Not in the way you think,” John says through what Rook imagines are very clenched teeth. “Besides, _I_ repented after _you_ left.” And that doesn’t sound so angry. Almost hurt? Like he hadn’t thought Rook was going to leave. 

Of course Rook was going to leave. He was always going to leave. Choosing to remain inside of John’s bunker, deep underground, with countless Peggies lurking around every corner would make him crazier than John. “Of course I left, did you think I wouldn’t?”

“No,” John says, and he sounds worn out and flat and that’s no fun. He’s supposed to be all sharp edges and angry words that cut and bite into Rook’s skin and remind him of where they both stand. He’s not supposed to be a _person_.

“Is there something you want, deputy, or can I go back to cleaning up the mess you’ve made of my property?”

What Rook wants is for John to go back to last week and yelling at him about sin and confession. He knows how to work with that. He’s gotten very good at working with that, in fact. One explosion at a time. But this… he doesn’t even like John. He’s not Rook’s problem to fix. “I can come back,” he says.

John doesn’t say anything for a while and Rook has to check that his radio is still working. He’s about to start fiddling with the batteries when John finally speaks. “You want to come back?”

No, he wants the misplaced feelings of guilt to go away. “Yeah, yes.”

He can hear John’s smile, all teeth and mania. “I’m at the ranch. I can… I’ll have the guards moved away from the south entrance.”

“Okay,” Rook says, knowing this is a terrible idea. He’s going to do it anyway, but still. He can’t even pretend to have an excuse this time. There’s literally no reason for him to go back to John. 

He’s at the ranch and sneaking in through the unguarded door in under ten minutes, having broken what would be several traffic laws in anywhere else besides Hope fucking County. 

“You’re here,” John says like he didn’t really believe that Rook would show up.

And if Rook were a better man he wouldn’t have. If he were a smarter man then he’d know to stay as far away from John Seed as he could get and never look back. But he’s not and he isn’t because he’s here and he knows that if John asks he’ll keep coming back again and again.

He hopes John doesn’t ask. 

“I said I would.” He drags John into a kiss, biting at his mouth like he can make John regret this. Regret him.

John makes a terrible broken sound and tears at Rook’s clothes until they’re gone, lost somewhere on the way to the bedroom, until they’re both naked and Rook is braced against the headboard, thighs shaking as John presses slick wet fingers into him. “Let me fuck you, let me, let me--”

Rook hates this, he does, and he can’t get enough of it. He’s humping at the air desperate to be touched. He _needs_ so much, but when he tries to get a hand on himself John stops. He just _stops_ and Rook hate him the most. “Yes,” he says begging, pleading for it. “Please, please…” All the air leaves him on a sigh when John pushes into him easy like he’s meant to fit. 

“You will atone,” he says into Rook’s neck, biting at the meat there. “I will take everything from you until you are clean and I will have you in paradise.”

“Yes,” Rook says. It doesn’t matter, none of this matters. There’s no winning whatever game they’re playing here. So he spreads his legs wider, presses back against John, and lets him take anything he wants. 

He doesn’t mean to stay the night. He had planned to leave once they were done, maybe sneak out when John wasn’t looking again, but John is never really finished with him. Rook is too fucked out to think straight and he forgets all about his plan somewhere between his dick in John’s throat and agreeing to let John put more words into his skin if he’ll just let Rook _come_.

He wakes up on his stomach with John straddling his thighs, the hard length of him pushed against Rook’s ass, content in a gentle rocking of his hips. 

Rook groans because he’s already hard, his own cock trapped under his weight on the mattress.

“Are you with me?”

“How can you have this much stamina? _I_ don’t have this much stamina.” He tries to angle his hips up and grind down at the same time, but John holds him firm so he can’t even move at all. 

“I am given strength to do what must be done,” John says like that’s not a completely insane thing to say. That cannot possibly be how this works. There’s no way God made it so John was especially skilled at fucking Rook until he’s come-stupid and making a lot of very bad decisions. And if it somehow were true that would be a much better selling point into the cult than drowning people in a river and carving them up if they live. 

Rook’s just about to say as much when John gives a particularly hard push against his ass and Rook’s cock drags on the wet sticky sheets in the nicest way. “Fuck,” he says instead.

*

“So, uh,” Sharky starts, making a face as though what he’s about to say is causing him physical pain, “remember how we talked about not sticking your dick in crazy? Specifically the crazy that is John Seed?”

“You talked about it,” Rook says, “ _I_ remember trying to fist fight a Peggie with a machine gun.”

“And what lesson did we learn from that,” Grace asks like the only adult surrounded by children who, by some divine comedy of errors, also happen to be adults. 

Rook actually has to think about it. “ _Don’t_ do that?”

“Right,” Grace says and shoots the tire out on one of the Peggie’s trucks driving by, sending it careening into a tree. Just for fun.

Sharky sighs all heavy and put upon. “Okay, but if we can get back to the part where Rook keeps getting down and dirty with John fucking Seed and how he’s now got a brand new Peggie tattoo, that would be great.”

“It’s not that bad,” Rook says like that’s in any way true. It is that bad. It takes up a lot of real-estate on his forearm and John even signed it because he’s a fucking asshole. “I’ll just… wear long sleeve. It’s fine. No one will notice.”

They do. The people of Hope County pay entirely too much attention to the goings on of Rook’s life and he blames John for making everything so damn public. 

*

"Is it too much to ask for you not to announce to everyone that we're fucking?"

"Is it too much to ask for you to stop being so destructive?" John snaps, fucking himself down onto Rook's cock, sending the water over the side of his ridiculous clawed-foot bathtub.

Blowing shit up is at least half the fun of his job, currently. "Depends on the incentive, I guess." He holds John tighter, wanting to leave bruises to remember him by.

John rocks his hips, nails dragging over Rook's chest, leaving behind angry red lines. "You," all the air leaves him and he makes this small punched-out noise as Rook pushes up into him. " _You_... why do you make everything so difficult?"

"Seems pretty easy to me." Rook grins and slides his fingers over where they're connected, trying to spread John open so he can hit deeper.

John's hands clench into fists where they still rest against Rook's chest and he curls his body forward, tucking his head into Rook's shoulder, beard dripping water and tickling his skin. "Make me come," he says all soft warmth.

Which is something that Rook can do. He takes John's cock in hand and jerks him off, nice and slow, fucking into him at the same languid pace, as if they have all the time in the world.

When he knows John is close, he presses his thumb into the slit of John's cock and bites just at the edge of too hard, sinking his teeth into John's delicate unmarked neck. Gives that bit of pain that John likes so much. Maybe later they'll get to all those dangerous things John whispers to him like secrets he wants Rook to protect. They've been speeding down that road for so long the finish line is almost in sight and Rook is going to let him give in to all those darker desire with Rook right there at the center.

John shakes apart when he comes and Rook loves how pliant and soft that makes him. It won't last, but this is a version of John he can almost wish were real. Without all the sharp edges. He pushes up into him, fucking harder, seeking his own pleasure, and thinks that the real version of John is more fun anyway.

"We'll have to start over," John sighs when he finally comes down, lifting himself off of Rook's softening and oversensitive cock.

Rook laughs unable to stop himself. "It was your idea to join me when I was just trying to get clean."

The look John gives him is flatly unamused. "I don't recall you protesting at the time," he says, reaching back and pulling up the drain stopper.

"Well, yeah," Rook says because he's not going to say no to willing and available sex. He drags John flush against him and uses his foot to turn the tap back on, refilling the hot water in the tub before it's fully drained.

John slumps forward, practically melting in Rook’s arms, knee sliding on the bottom of the bathtub. There's just enough room for the both of them to fit comfortably.

Rook hums and grabs for the shampoo bottle, squeezing out what he thinks is the right amount, and begins to work it into a lather in john's hair.

"What--" John tries to get up but Rook holds him down as best he can and continues working his fingers through wet hair, pressing against John's scalp in a close approximation of a massage. "What are you doing?"

"Dunno," Rook says, "hold on." He has to do a little bit of awkward maneuvering to get the stopper back into place to keep the water from draining any more. "Okay." He cups his hands together and scoops up some of the water and carefully rinses away the shampoo.

John whines something that's frayed around the edges. "I don't understand you."

"I get that a lot these days." Rook grabs for the conditioner that smells a lot like his memories of going to the beach when he was younger.

"Joseph said you would be dangerous."

Rook stop working the conditioner into John's hair to try getting a better look at his face, but John grunts something annoyed and punches the skin at Rook's waist, so he stops trying. "You told Joseph about this?"

"You can't keep secrets from him," John says like someone who has tried before and failed.

"Huh," Rook says, not really sure what to say. Big brother knows that he's having frequent and enthusiastic sex with little brother and hasn't done anything to stop them, besides apparently warning John that he's dangerous. And while that's accurate, it feels a lot like a pot meet kettle situation. Rook's dangerous only as a reaction to what the Seed's had started.

But still, he would have expected maybe a sermon or a warning or another vague threat to his life in the guise of wanting to save his soul.

It takes a while but eventually he gets them both all the way clean and out of the bathtub. He grabs one towel to wrap around John's waist and another to scrub at his hair in a sad attempt to get him dry while Rook himself continues to drip water onto the bathroom tiles.

"Do you know what you're doing now?" John asks with the air of a man who already knows the answer.

"Nope." Rook pops the P especially loud.

John sighs, dropping both towels to the ground and going back to the bedroom, leaving Rook to finally get dry and start the hunt for all of his clothes. His shirt is on the counter by the sink, and one sock is hiding in a corner, but the rest don't appear to be in the bathroom at all.

"You seen my belt?" he asks when he walks into the bedroom, nearly tripping over his jeans right past the the doorway.

John is sitting on the end of the bed watching him, and points to the other side of the room where his belt is draped over a lamp. "You could stay for breakfast," he says.

Rook's about to laugh about how it's the middle of the day and John needs to learn how to read a clock when he _gets it_. "Oh," he says, tossing his clothes back to wherever he'll have to hunt for them later. "That's a great idea."

*

It's such a nice plane, all shiny and blue-grey like a thunderstorm, and it's just _sitting there_ in a field, abandoned. Well, probably abandoned. It's highly probable that the person who owns it is the same person whose body is still smoking in the pit that Rook stepped over to get to the pretty, shiny plane.

"So we're just ignoring the dead now? Not even checking their pockets, just stepping right over them like we can't be bothered. That's cool," Sharky says, kicking some loose dirt over the fire pit and smothering the flames in a manner that would be uncharacteristic except for how very bad the smell is.

Rook runs his fingers over one of the wings on the plane as he gets a better look inside. It's clean and, as far as he can tell, not broken beyond repair. If it's slightly broken or even in working condition he has no idea. Couldn't tell a working plane from a broken one if it's not in the air or on fire.

"Something caught your eye?" Grace asks, coming up behind him and looking into the cockpit over his shoulder.

"Is it weird to give someone a plane as a gift? Like, if they already have one, is it bad to give them a second plane?"

"No," says Grace, stepping away and crossing her arms. " _No_. We are _not_ talking about your bad choices with John Seed again."

That seems to get Sharky's attention who swears in some very graphic and colorful language and stares up at the sky as if asking for help. Grace does something similar and, hey, it's nice that they're growing closer. Rook is helping to build comradery, is what he's doing.

"Don't tell me you caught feelings, man, that is so dumb," Sharky says.

Grace nods. "You know this will end badly."

"I didn't catch _feelings_ ," Rook says, with feeling.

*

Getting the plane all the way to the ranch is very difficult, especially when the Peggies like to try shooting him down on sight and John doesn't answer his radio call right away. All in all the fact that Rook manages to land the plane intact, with only a few extra bumps and dents, is kind of a minor miracle if he does say so himself. Which he doesn't because he's not sure how John or any of the Peggies within earshot will take that. Regardless, he's pretty proud of himself as an amature pilot, at best. And all the places where bullets hit the plane can be buffed out. Probably.

"What were you thinking?" John's eyes are wide and frantic and his face has drained of all its usual color when Rook hops down onto the runway like the conquering hero he is.

Rook gestures at the plane. "It's a gift," he says and maybe it's because he actually said it out loud in front of John, but suddenly it sounds exactly like the kind of bad idea he's been warned about.

"It's a--" John's mouth works open and shut a few times like he can't get the words out. "--a _gift_?"

"For you?" Rook is starting to regret this plan entirely.

John waves over one of the surrounding Peggies and points them at the plane. "I want this cleaned and looking brand new, understand?"

The Peggie just sort of blinks like they're unable to fully comprehend what is happening. "Herald?"

John ignores them to instead grab at Rook's shirt and pull him into the house. "You got me a plane," he says, pushing Rook against the door and kissing him desperately, licking into his mouth, and touching him all over like he has to feel all of Rook at once.

"Yes." Rook cranes his neck to the side to give John better access to his throat. He tears at their clothes and feels something rip in John's shirt and he'll be punished for that, he knows he will, and it'll be so good. He'll apologise in every way he can. "It was, fuck. It was shiny." That makes sense, right?

"You're insane," John says and Rook laughs because he's not, he's _not_. "I'm going to keep you. I won't let you leave, I won't, you just have to--" he runs his teeth against Rook's neck like a threat and Rook can't help but to press against him and let John take whatever he wants. "I will _make you._ "

John drags him up the stairs and into the bedroom, leaving all of their clothes in a trail behind them.

"I will keep you, you're going to be mine in Eden." John pushes him onto the bed with enough force that Rook bounces on the mattress, laughing and giddy with need and desire all mixed up in him. John's saying impossible things, weaving madness into the doubts in his head. "You only have to atone and I can keep you. I need you to-- if you don't--" _the gates of Eden shall be shut to you John_.

Rook hears Joseph's voice as clear as if he were standing in the room with them. The laughter fades and it feels a lot like his heart stops for a moment and his shock turns quickly to uncertainty. He shoves John off of him, putting space between them so he can roll off the bed. 

"Is that what this is about? You thought you could, what, fuck me into your cult?" He has to get out of here, away from John.

"It's not a--" John makes a painful angry noise and sits up in the place on the bed where Rook had just been. "I thought I could make you _care_ ," he says. "I thought if I gave you what you want--"

"What _I_ want?"

" _You_ started this! You promised you would listen and then you pulled me into bed and when I thought that I had failed, that you had deceived me, you came back. You chose to come back!" John is hunched over with the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes and he looks so defeated, like all the fight has drained away, leaving only the empty sad parts behind. "If I just loved you enough then you would care, you would have to care."

"Fuck," Rook says, because it was just supposed to be sex, but John let him stay the night again and again and made him breakfast and Rook brought him a fucking _plane_. "You love me?"

"You should leave," John says, "I won't stop you."

This is where Rook knows he should take the offer and run. Wash his hands of John Seed and this detour into some shared orgasms with a vicious sadist. He doesn't leave. He was never going to. "I do care," he says, kneeling in front of John and taking his hands away from his face. "I do. I'll atone, I will, I'll-- _anything_. All of it. I'm sorry.

He kisses John and pulls him back into bed. Later John will guide him through confession and then Rook will atone. But for now Rook feels the gentle cage of John's love snap shut around him and he welcomes it gladly.


End file.
